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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600281">i'll be the light (to guide you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcjime/pseuds/hcjime'>hcjime</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-03 00:42:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,024</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23600281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hcjime/pseuds/hcjime</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He wants so desperately—to kiss Hajime until they’re both breathless, to ask him to marry him, someday, to let whatever love he’s been holding in for the past twenty years unfurl, give way to something beautiful. He wants everything so badly that it aches. His heart feels like a summer storm: bright and warm and thundering against his ribcage like it’s going to break out.</p><p>“Um,” Tooru says after a moment. “Yeah. Have fun on your date.”</p><p>[or : hajime is going on a date and it's definitely not affecting tooru at all ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>325</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>i'll be the light (to guide you)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>commission me! details <a href="https://twitter.com/hagiwaoi/status/1235699843701649409">here</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Frankly, Tooru thinks being in love with his best friend is almost the most annoying thing in the world. Being in love with his best friend whom he now </span>
  <em>
    <span>lives with</span>
  </em>
  <span> is definitely a rank above that, though, and he might honestly die of longing before one of them decides to be sane and moves out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime leans forward — pokes the area between Tooru’s brows, dragging him out of his fourth misery session of the day. “You look weird,” he says. “What’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s called </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Iwa-chan,” Tooru replies primly. “Obviously, you haven’t heard of it, but it’s when your brain —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did I even ask,” Hajime mutters, returning to his textbook. His head snaps up, suddenly enough that it causes Tooru to jerk forward reflexively — to reach out, ready to cup Hajime’s face in both his hands and say something either ridiculously vulnerable or ridiculously stupid. “Um,” Hajime says. Tooru plants his hands against the floor — bats his lashes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m, uh,” Hajime begins, careful, “going on a date tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru blinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says after a long moment — once he’s managed to feel like his heart isn’t going to flop onto the floor like the goldfish he accidentally killed when he was eight. “Cool.” For some reason, Hajime doesn’t look happy with that response, so Tooru grins as wide as he can. “Do you need fashion advice? I’d say brush your hair for starters, but I don’t even know if that’s possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” Hajime snaps. “Like I’d take fashion advice from you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to — I’ve gotten better since high school,” Tooru splutters. “Are you — is it like, a blind date, or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just my lab partner from O-chem,” Hajime answers. “Nothing big.” Tooru drums his fingers against the floor. He knows Hajime’s lab partner, he thinks, or at least he’s seen her on Hajime’s Snapchat story — she’s cute, with pretty eyes and short hair and a good sense of humor and this is so infinitely worse than a blind date. He wishes he’d never asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s, uh,” Tooru picks up his phone and texts Makki about fifteen times in a row, “that’s really cool. She seems nice.” Hajime throws him another odd glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool.” Tooru fidgets with the hem of his sweater. “I should probably, uh, get started on my socio homework; it’s due tonight.” He flashes Hajime another quick smile — he knows it doesn’t look genuine, but he can’t really bring himself to try right now. “Talk later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few moments, he wonders if he can sabotage the date somehow, pretend to get sick or injured, but he reminds himself that he’s not seventeen and selfish anymore. He’s an adult. He can be an adult about this. He’ll be fine, probably, and if not, Hajime will be fine and hit it off with his lab partner and they’ll get married and Tooru will die old and alone with only Kuroo and Makki and possibly a large, ornery bird to keep him company.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He starts his socio homework — it’s due in two weeks, not today, but it’s never too early to get a headstart. When Hajime knocks on his door, he says </span>
  <em>
    <span>busy</span>
  </em>
  <span> because if he looks at him he genuinely might start crying. Hajime knocks again, though, because he never leaves Tooru alone, not even when Tooru begs him to, and says, “I’m hungry. Let’s have dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can have dinner,” Tooru calls back. “I’ll be out in a couple hours; I have work to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your socio homework isn’t due for another two weeks,” Hajime says. “I asked Kuroo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kuroo doesn’t have the best handle on when stuff is due,” Tooru replies, which is a terrible lie. “I’ll be out in five minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Okay. If you’re not I’m breaking down the door.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As long as you pay for it,” Tooru singsongs, tapping random keys on his keyboard and wondering how long it’ll take him to accidentally type a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After four and a half minutes (he knows Hajime’s going to start knocking again at exactly the five-minute mark and he at least wants a moment to rearrange his expression before they’re face to face), Tooru pastes a smile on — heads to the kitchen, approximately four feet away from his room — makes finger guns at Hajime and immediately regrets it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look weird,” Hajime says for the second time in three hours. He squints. “You’re sure you’re fine with me going out with her, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Tooru’s voice comes out a little too high and too loud. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Hajime looks down at his rice — back up at Tooru — makes a face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” he replies, but his brows are pinched and he’s biting his lip like he always does when he wants to say something but can’t. Tooru sits down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re going.” He hates how upset he sounds — he’s gotten so used to not being able to hide things from Hajime that he no longer tries, and now it’s biting him in the ass. Hajime stares at him for a long moment. His eyes are dark. His teeth have been worrying at his lip for half a minute now and Tooru wants to kiss him until he stops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says. “I guess I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t say anything else while they’re eating. Tooru doesn’t remember the last time he hasn’t been annoying during dinner since they fought just before they graduated high school, over two years ago. For some reason this feels worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before Tooru goes to bed, Hajime knocks on his door again. “I’m coming in,” he says before Tooru can say he’s busy and pretend to be writing a paper. He sits at the edge of Tooru’s bed. “We’re okay, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tooru almost says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want you to love me like I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hajime’s not even doing anything but he looks like streetlights reflected against wet cobblestone, like summer constellations above the beach, like everything so beautiful you feel like you’re committing a crime by looking for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Obviously,” Tooru replies instead, as brightly as he can. “Go to bed; you don’t want to show up to your date with eyebags.” He laughs. “I mean, you already don’t have much going for you—” Hajime interrupts him by ruffling his hair with a scowl, but he’s hiding a smile behind it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight, Oikawa,” he says, flipping him off as he leaves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night, Iwa-chan.” Tooru buries himself under his blankets, staring at his pillow instead of closing his eyes. He doesn’t sleep until three in the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru is perhaps the stupidest person on the planet, and because of this, he’s helping his dumb best friend choose a dumb outfit for his dumb date five hours after he fell asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you guys would be getting dinner,” he says, even though he’s not sure why he thought that. Hajime shrugs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said, it’s not really a big deal. We’re just going out for coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going out for coffee as a </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Tooru stresses. Hajime blinks at him — opens and closes his mouth. His lashes are ridiculously long. Now is not the time to be thinking about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you,” he pauses, “completely sure you’re fine with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I already said I was.” Tooru’s voice sounds strained so he smiles to even it out. “Seriously. She seems nice. Also, that shirt is way too formal for coffee.” Hajime glares at it like it’s trying to kill him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t even know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>coffee date formal</span>
  </em>
  <span> means.” He half-smiles at his wardrobe, and Tooru suddenly wants to curl up into a very small ball and rot away. “She probably sent that as a joke, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Either that or she’s weird,” Tooru replies breezily. He wonders idly how he got here—how he spent at least sixteen of his twenty years on earth memorizing the curve of Hajime’s cheek, the way his ears go dark when he’s embarrassed, his dimples when he smiles—and yet instead of doing anything Tooru’s giving him fashion advice for his future girlfriend and maybe soulmate. It’s stupid. He’s stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Hajime holds up a t-shirt that Tooru knows is a little tight on him and a pair of black ripped jeans. “Is this fine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wear a jacket over it.” Tooru can feel his smile wobbling a little and he hates it. “It’s still cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now who’s acting like whose mom,” Hajime mutters, but he picks up his bomber jacket too. “I’m gonna go change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have fun,” Tooru calls, and he doesn’t know why he said that but Hajime laughs so it’s fine. He busies himself with texting people in all caps about how miserable he is, hoping he can at least goad Kuroo into blocking him for entertainment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This—you’re sure it looks okay, right?” Hajime asks as he walks back into Tooru’s room. Tooru glances up—allows himself to stare just for a moment, because Hajime’s perhaps the most ethereal person he’s seen in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants so desperately—to kiss Hajime until they’re both breathless, to ask him to marry him, someday, to let whatever love he’s been holding in for the past twenty years unfurl, give way to something beautiful. He wants everything so badly that it aches. His heart feels like a summer storm: bright and warm and thundering against his ribcage like it’s going to break out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Tooru says after a moment. “Yeah. Have fun on your date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime smiles at him, all teeth and dimples and scrunched eyes. Tooru gives himself exactly three and a half minutes after he leaves before he bursts into tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>/</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Hajime gets home it’s eight o’clock in the evening of what has been maybe the third most miserable day in Tooru’s life. “How was the date?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Hajime says, flopping down on the couch next to Tooru. “I don’t think we’re going on another one.” Tooru pretends he doesn’t feel his heart in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been out for almost twelve hours,” he says instead of something stupid like </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh good because I’m in love with you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hajime folds his hands together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured something out and I had to, uh, process it. I guess.” His eyes are trained firmly on the tea stain on the corner of their ugly patterned rug. “She told me that she liked me, but she only asked me out because she’s trying to get over someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sucks,” Tooru replies, sounding not at all genuine. Hajime holds a hand up. He still isn’t meeting Tooru’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Normally, I’d be kind of pissed, but, um,” he takes a shaky breath, “I was doing the same thing.” This is fine. Hajime’s in love with another not-Tooru individual. It’s fine. His heart isn’t being shattered. “Don’t say anything,” Hajime says before Tooru can offer advice and ruin himself even more. “Let me finish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask something?” Hajime blinks — nods. He’s impossibly cute and impossibly out of reach and this is the worst. “Who is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Hajime says, and then, after a moment, “it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tooru stares. “This isn’t a joke, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hajime makes a noise that’s half-laugh, half-sigh. “No. Why would it be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because — I’ve been in love with you for like, my whole life?” Tooru pinches himself just in case this is a dream and when he wakes up Hajime will be married to his cute lab partner or something. “I thought you knew. Everyone knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everyone, obviously,” Hajime scoffs. His smile is so bright Tooru feels like he has to avert his eyes, but he never wants to look away again. “I, uh. Yeah. I’m sort of in love with you too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of in love with me,” Tooru repeats. “Unbelievable. Iwa-chan, you’re the least romantic person I’ve ever met.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Super in love with you?” Hajime tries again. Tooru’s heart flutters despite his best efforts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better,” he decides. “We’ll work on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a promise?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Tooru says. His smile is definitely embarrassingly wide and he can’t find it in him to care. “We have time.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[ <a href="https://t.co/ea7u6Xb5PM?amp=1">commissions</a> | <a href="https://twitter.com/satousugu">twitter</a> ]</p><p>this was written as a commission for lyd !! my hag baby whom i love dearly &lt;3 i hope u guys liked it too ^-^ if u did maybe consider checking out my commissions!</p><p>thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day ♡</p></blockquote></div></div>
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